Ferengi Prophets
by Gadrin
Summary: My 1st attempt at a DS9 short story, set in an alternate reality, please RNR!


  
This story came about after watching several DS9 episodes on video.  
I'm still "learning" the setting, but wanted to write a few short  
stories to get the feel of things. It was also to help me develop  
a DS9 alternate reality setting for a GURPS Space PBEM/RPG.   
  
THIS ISN'T A MIRROR SETTING.  
  
DS9 STATION ALTERNATE REALITY SCENARIO #1 (for Bajoran-aligned  
group)  
  
The current head of the station is Eunice Berys, Chief of Bajoran  
Military Defense. Naturally she leans against Cardassian and  
Dominion traffic through the wormhole. She's assisted by a wing of  
Klingon Birds of Prey (5 in all) who patrol the area of space in and  
around the wormhole. During Bajoran occupation, Cardassian and  
Dominion craft know that if they use the spatial tunnel they'll be  
turned back or must proceed at their own risk.  
  
The appearance of Dominion citizens (ie, Vorta and Breen) at the  
station has aroused her suspicions and she's alerted the Bajoran  
military. Naturally she tries to prevent Dominion ships on this  
side of the Wormhole from going back. The ships make requests, she  
denies the requests and they go off on another course. After much  
research Bajoran sources conclude that the Dominion must have  
cloaking technology and can sneak through, since ships she's denied  
access to the Wormhole have been recorded on the other side.  
  
DS9 Security Chief Halan Ovel, a Bajoran, has received information  
from Bajoran spies on Cardassia that members of the Obsidian Order  
have transferred funds for a dozen such devices and are using  
Ferengi middlemen to conclude the deal, somewhere aboard DS9. The  
trouble for Chief Ovel is that eight vessels, carrying numerous   
Ferengi passengers have docked at the station in the past 14 hours.   
Chief Berys wants the responsible Dominion and Ferengi arrested and  
the devices confiscated then sent to Bajor, since the items could  
be of use to the Bajoran Navy.  
  
The Beteljuice Lounge replaces Quark's, and is operated by an Orion  
called Betmil Gemmas.  
  
The stardate convention is: Deep Space Nine 2377.231, that is day  
231 of year 2377.  
  
Star Trek DS9 is property of Paramount.  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
FERENGI PROPHETS  
  
  
Deep Space Nine 2377.230  
  
  
TIME: 1845  
PLACE: walkway above the Promenade  
  
  
"Looks like a Ferengi migration," joked the DS9 security man to his  
chief. Halan Ovel, a Bajoran, smiled briefly at his first  
lieutenant's remark as the two men looked down on the mass of  
large-lobed creatures below them.  
  
"Must be a convention," said the chief, pausing momentarily, "It'll  
make the local merchants happy," he continued, meaning the newcomers  
carried latinum and other goods to hawk and sell.  
  
Ovel froze momentarily as he spotted Yar Vord, a Ferengi resident at  
the station greet a group of four of his race. The group spoke in  
hushed tones for several moments.  
  
"Place a detail on them," said Ovel. The lieutenant nodded and made  
an entry in his padd.  
  
Ovel glanced at his timepiece then strode off along the walkway, his  
first officer close behind.  
  
  
TIME: 1903  
PLACE: Customs Inspection Pod 3  
  
  
"Good to see you Chief Ovel," said the Bajoran merchant while  
shaking the man's hand.  
  
"You too Talfe," said the security man. "This is my first officer,  
Lieutenant Cheka," he said, nodding to the Bajoran with him. They  
too shook hands and exchanged pleasantries.  
  
The Inspection Pod was empty save for the three men, giving them a  
quiet, secluded place to talk.  
  
"I've got some troubling news," said Talfe. "You're aware that the  
Dominion have cloaking technology." Ovel nodded. "Naturally the  
Cardassians are interested in it. It's expensive, but worth their  
consideration. Our contacts have discovered that certain Cardassian  
elements are trying to procure several of the devices."  
  
"The only Cardassians with the wherewithal for something like this  
would be the Obsidian Order," said Ovel quietly. Talfe nodded. "Why  
should this concern me?" Ovel had a sneaking suspicion.  
  
Talfe nodded again, "Yeah, well the facts point to the Order putting  
together a deal alright. A big one. We're talking a dozen cloaks."  
  
Ovel's eyes widened as shock overtook his features. He whistled  
softly, "A squadron of cloaked ships..." his voice trailed off as  
his thoughts went to the five Klingon Birds of Prey that were  
assigned to the station.  
  
Talfe nodded again, "Yeah, they could cause alot of trouble."  
  
"Well," started Ovel, "There have been no Cardassians on DS9 for the  
last eight weeks."  
  
"No good," said Talfe, "They're using a middleman. Ferengi."  
  
Ovel and Cheka exchanged looks.  
  
"What's wrong?" asked the newly arrived Talfe.  
  
Ovel told him.  
  
  
  
TIME: 2213  
PLACE: Beteljuice Lounge  
  
  
Betmil Gemmas counted out his money in the small backroom he used as  
an office. The Orion's face contorted into a grimace and he rolled  
the unlit cigar that was ubiquitously clenched between his teeth.  
There was only 700 Federation Credits. He'd double-checked his  
inventory and was missing a significant amount of stock. There  
should have been double the amount in the till. Betmil checked each  
bill, one by one, discovering a thousand credit note stuck to the  
bottom of one of the hundreds, this brought a smile of relief.  
  
There was a brief knock at the door, before it opened. Gemmas'  
Tellarite barkeep peeked her head in, "He's here." Gemmas nodded and  
the barkeep left.  
  
Gemmas placed the money in his safe, then walked over to the wall  
near the door and activated the viewscreen. He could observe the  
whole lounge from this point. He panned the viewer over, pausing on  
a Ferengi sitting by himself. It was Yar Vord, long suspected by  
station security to be involved in several thefts. Gemmas chewed his  
stogie quietly watching one of the station's relief mechanics sit  
down at the bar. The mechanic tossed his carrybag into the empty  
booth next to the Ferengi, then rolled up his sleeves while he  
ordered a drink.  
  
Gemmas watched the pair intently.  
  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
"Thought my shift would never end," said the human mechanic, before  
quickly gulping down his drink. He raised his glass at the Tellarite  
and nodded. Another appeared shortly. He raised the second glass to  
his mouth, turning at the same time to survey the crowd. He paused  
on the Ferengi momentarily, gave a slight nod, then gulped down this  
drink too.  
  
The mechanic engaged in small talk: female discussion, political  
speculation before ordering a third drink, downing it and leaving.  
  
Vord stood, straightening his jacket momentarily as a group of  
newcomers took the booth next to him. One of the ladies produced the  
bag the mechanic had left.  
  
"I'll take it," said Vord, motioning for the woman to hand it to  
him. "It's one of the customer's. He left in a hurry. I know him,"  
said the Ferengi. He put the bag under his arm and strolled out of  
the bar, looking both ways.  
  
The station's employee quarters were westward.  
  
Vord headed east.  
  
  
  
TIME: 2342 PLACE: Docking Port #12  
  
  
"They're Bajoran," said Vord handing the multiview goggles over to  
the Klingon mercenary. "Latest design, worth 500 Federation Credits  
anyplace else." Vord leaned against the bulkhead. "If you buy all  
three I'll lower it to, say 250, each."  
  
The two Klingons and a large Gorn did some talking amongst  
themselves. Yar's translator medallion revealed to the Ferengi that  
they were interested. He let them talk before digging into his  
pocket.  
  
"What about wristcoms?" he asked, proferring three of the  
stainless-steel items to the group. The Klingons tried them on, but  
the Gorn's reptilian wrist was too thick. The creature protested  
vigourously.  
  
"Just take the band off..." said Vord, shaking his head. He wrestled  
the item away from the reptile before the creature damaged it.  
"After you buy it."  
  
The group argued a bit more, "Eighty credits for the comsets, a  
thousand credits for the lot," he smiled.  
  
The Gorn stepped forward, growling at the Ferengi.  
  
"Yes, you're right," said the merchant. The Gorn had a head for  
numbers. "Nine hundred ninety credits."  
  
He endured a few more insults before the group paid him.  
  
Vord headed for the turbolift. He'd drop by the west housing wing  
and give the mechanic his forty percent. When the lift door's opened  
two station security men stepped in.  
  
"Yar Vord," announced the officer named Cheka. "Just the person  
we're looking for. We just received a tip..." explained Cheka as the  
lift's door closed closed behind him.  
  
  
Deep Space Nine 2377.231  
  
TIME: 0747  
PLACE: aboard the Dominion trader CHALICE, Docking Port #3  
  
  
"Remember," the female Vorta paced back and forth, "The Ferengi  
contact will have gold latinum fillings on his four front teeth.  
After you find him, let me know immediately. Then get him aboard  
ship WITH the funds. I want a sizeable amount before we proceed."  
The woman stopped pacing, stepping close to the two Jem'Hadar  
soldiers before her. "Do you understand?" she hissed.  
  
The two warriors hated the woman, but their fear of her tempered  
their reactions. Both nodded quietly.  
  
"Then you are dismissed," she announced, crossing her arms. The two  
left the bridge via the sliding door. The woman motioned with her  
hand and a small metallic baton jumped from a nearby desktop into  
it. She toyed with the device briefly, while resuming her pacing.  
She waited twenty minutes before disembarking from the Dominion  
merchant vessel and entering the space station.  
  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
"A Dominion representative," said Chief Berys, watching the  
viewscreen of Docking Port #3. She watched the Vorta female stroll  
into the airlock and then to the turbolift.  
  
"Two Jem'Hadar left the craft earlier," said Ovel, switching the  
viewer to the alternate display channel. Berys waived him off.  
  
"It's doubtful the Dominion would balance this deal on two  
soldiers," she said, refering to the report Ovel had made yesterday,  
after his meeting with the Bajoran spy, Talfe. "But watch them all.  
The Jem'Hadar are mainly cannon fodder, but the Dominion are quite  
capable of the unexpected."  
  
Ovel nodded, "She's having breakfast at Casim's. The two Jem'Hadar  
have been trying to purchase supplies."  
  
"Keep me informed," said Berys.  
  
  
  
TIME: 1612 PLACE: Beteljuice Lounge  
  
  
"I want twenty percent," growled Betmil Gemmas.  
  
"You set me up!" cried Vord. The Ferengi had wondered how Ovel and  
his men discovered the theft from the Bajoran freighter so fast. The  
mechanic had pocketed all the small valuables he could while he was  
aboard during a service call.  
  
"Don't conduct your business in my place," the Orion moved the cigar  
to the other side of his mouth.  
  
Vord opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it.  
  
Gemmas nodded, "That's right, Ovel thinks I'm part of it."  
  
Vord shrugged, "Well, since he confiscated my money, I can't pay you  
your twenty percent."  
  
Gemmas leaned forward so that his nose was only inches away from the  
smaller creature's face.   
  
"I don't care what Ovel took from you. I want twenty percent."  
Gemmas' eyes lifted momentarily. The Tellarite barkeep had a husband  
who happened to be the bouncer. He clapped a hand on the Ferengi's  
shoulder.  
  
It only took a few seconds before Vord agreed.  
  
"Tomorrow evening I want to see you, got it?" said the Orion.  
  
The Ferengi nodded then left the bar as quickly as he could.  
  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
  
"Can you arrange passage off this station?" asked Vord nervously.  
  
The frightened Ferengi had left the promenade for the northern  
habitat ring, running into a group of his fellows on the way. The  
greedy creatures were part of a Capital Seminar that was purchasing  
the mineral rights to a nearby asteroid field.  
  
"Transport will cost you three strips of latinum," explained the  
other Ferengi as the two stopped to chat near the head buyer's  
quarters. "We won't be heading for Ferenginar for a few days  
though."  
  
"Three strips?" Vord thought it over. He'd have to pay more to the  
Orion if he stayed. "Alright, done. By the way. What's your name?"  
  
The other Ferengi smiled, revealing latinum-inlaid teeth. "Lutt  
Gulwutt." He extended his hand, palm up.   
  
Vord was momentarily confused.  
  
The creature's smile faded abruptly, "The latinum."  
  
"Oh, you want it now," Vord tried to sound surprised. He was broke  
and tried to explain but Gulwutt turned away and stalked off.  
  
Vord considered things for a moment. He was dead broke and his one  
avenue for money had been closed off.  
  
Then he spotted a pair of Bajoran monks strolling down one of the  
connecting passages, and an idea suddenly came to him.  
  
  
  
  
TIME: 1702   
PLACE: Shrine to the Prophets  
  
  
"And why do seek the Prophets?" asked the Bajoran monk who stood  
inside the shrine's doorway.  
  
Vord had been momentarily startled by the question. The monk had  
emerged from the shadows into the soft beam of the shrine's  
glowlamp.  
  
"Uh, well, I've suffered a reversal of fortunes," explained the  
Ferengi, eyeing the ornate, handcrafted lamp covers along the wall  
of the shrine. Any one of those would provide enough funds to  
sustain him for a month.  
  
A look of confusion crossed the monk's visage. The prophets brought  
enlightenment, not financial gain and he explained this to the  
Ferengi.  
  
"Yes, well, that's just it. I think I've been approaching things all  
wrong," he waited for the monk to step in and take over, which he  
did.  
  
It worked like a charm. Vord cursed himself for not thinking of this  
scheme sooner.  
  
The monk taught him a simple prayer and the two recited it together.  
  
Vord glanced at the lamp covers again.  
  
"Yes," he said smiling greatly, "I think I'll stop by everday and  
say a prayer."  
  
  
  
TIME: 1836   
PLACE: Suite 260, Habitat Ring, Northern Side  
  
  
"Excellent, you weren't followed," commented Gulwutt to the two  
Jem'Hadar soldiers standing in his room.  
  
The two exchanged a brief glance before the leader spoke, "You have  
the money?"  
  
Gulwutt smiled, then seated himself in a luxury chair. "Almost. By  
tomorrow at the latest."  
  
The two soldiers looked at each other once again, usure as how to  
proceed. The Vorta Helka had wanted to be notified once they found  
the contact, but they were supposed to get him aboard the CHALICE  
with the money. The two began arguing.  
  
"Gentlebeings, GENTLEBEINGS!" Gulwutt had to shout to break up the  
disagreement. "I've run into a bit of a snag, but I assure you the  
latinum will be ready tomorrow. Now what will you require from me?"  
  
"Our mistress wants you aboard our ship with the money," explained  
the ranking Jem'Hadar soldier. "From there we will make a short  
journey and give you the cloaking device."  
  
Gulwutt nodded, smiling calmly. "Very good then. Come by, say around  
lunchtime. I'll have everything ready." He rose from his seat and   
started for the door.  
  
The two Jem'Hadar grunted an acknowledgement then turned invisible,  
and left as the Ferengi activated the door.  
  
The smile faded from the creature's face. Now came the hard part.  
Getting the Ferengi buyer to part with the latinum he'd assembled  
from the Cardassian front man.  
  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
Cheka nodded as his two operatives came forward through the crowd.  
He glanced around quickly. Something was wrong. His two men were  
coming but the two Jem'Hadar he'd detailed them to follow were   
nowhere in sight.  
  
"What happened?" he asked as the two came near.  
  
"We lost them, sir," explained the corpsman.  
  
Cheka glanced over into a nearby boutique. The Vorta woman was still  
inside, examining the shop's wares.  
  
"Well they're not here," he said. "They must be cloaked."  
  
"Cloaked sir?"  
  
"Invisible. The Jem'Hadar can go out of phase with their  
surroundings. They can't be seen. I thought it was only a rumor, a  
falsehood." Cheka thought for a minute. His department sensor gear  
had been recalled by Starfleet pending replacements. The doctor had  
two older, working medical models.  
  
"Get over to sickbay and borrow Dr. Wemsley's tricorders then scan  
the whole station, level by level if you have to. I want those two  
found."  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
"What's wrong with him?" asked Dr. Wemsley.  
  
Two civilian orderlies were bringing in an unconscious Ferengi on a  
stretcher.  
  
"Not sure," said one of orderlies, grunting as they hefted the  
creature onto the sickbay couch. "He was in the Bajoran Shrine, when  
he collapsed. The monks called us."  
  
The doctor pulled out his analyzer and ran it over the creature's  
skull. There was no reading. He repeated the scan, moving the  
analyzer lower, before engaging the medical program, "Computer  
what's wrong with my equipment?"  
  
"The Ferengi species have natural defenses to cranial incursion and  
analysis," explained the program. The doctor nodded and continued  
the scan. Readings on the creature's body and extremities returned  
statistics that were normal for the creature according to the  
program.  
  
"Well, maybe it's just a fit of vertigo," said the doctor,  
discharging the two orderlies. "Nurse, prepare a hypospray. A mild  
adrenalin..."  
  
The Ferengi suddenly sputtered to life, "Wha...what's going on?  
Where am I?" the doctor and the nurse calmed the creature back down  
until he rested on the couch.  
  
"You've suffered some sort of feinting spell," explained Wemsley.  
  
"Yes, I was in the Bajoran Shrine," began Vord, batting his eyelids.  
Wemsley smiled, the patient had his memory at least.  
  
"Excuse me Doctor."  
  
Wemsley and the nurse turned, two Bajoran security men had entered  
the sickbay.  
  
"Yes, what is it?" Wemsley stepped out, leaving Vord alone with the  
nurse.  
  
The two men explained they needed two medical tricorders that could  
scan for the Jem'Hadar species. The doctor loaned each man a  
tricorder, then asked the nurse to calibrate the devices with the  
sickbay library computer. Within a few minutes the pair were on  
their way.  
  
"Nurse! Nurse!" called Dr. Wemsley. He'd stepped back into the  
sickbay, to discover the Ferengi had gone.  
  
The woman came but had no idea where the creature had gone.  
  
"He must have left while we were attending to the two Bajorans,"  
concluded the doctor. He had the nurse check the outer passage just  
in case.  
  
She returned momentarily, "Nothing. He must be all right if he felt  
well enough to walk."  
  
  
  
TIME: 2315   
PLACE: Buyer's Suite, Habitat Ring, Northern portion  
  
  
"A toast," proposed Gulwutt, snapping his fingers so that the  
servants brought over the Skelian Brandy.  
  
The Ferengi buyer smiled broadly and stood, grabbing a glass from  
the serving tray. He chimed his glass off Gulwutt's in a toast.  
  
"By tomorrow we'll own the developer's rights to the Far Reach  
Mining Consortium," said the buyer, relishing the thought.  
  
"And," Gulwutt pointed his finger, "We'll be taking thirty percent,  
off the top."  
  
The buyer laughed, "Thirty three and a half, to be exact!"  
  
"You got an extra three and half?" Gulwutt feigned wonderment.  
  
"Yes, I, uh, convinced the merchant ship captain that brought us  
here to contact his board of directors and invest in our little  
operation, in exchange for transportation rights," winked the buyer.  
"They'll kick some back as long as we give their ships arrival and  
departure prioritization."  
  
"So how much did you gather?" asked Gulwutt. Too bad the buyer had  
no idea the money had come from Cardassian sources. They'd used a  
shell company on Ferenginar to start the ball rolling. This poor guy  
thought the deal was real.  
  
"Eighteen million," said the buyer, proud as could be. "Plus the  
shipping monies. They'll have representatives here in a few days."  
  
"May I?" asked Gulwutt.  
  
The buyer looked confused.  
  
"May I see it?" he repeated. "I've never seen that much latinum."  
  
The buyer thought for a moment then nodded, retreating into the  
other room, where his huge strongbox lay.  
  
As he fiddled with the retinal code he heard a thud come from the  
other room. He activated the unit's anti-grav apparatus and marched  
the open safe into the suite.  
  
The servant had collapsed on the floor. Gulwutt was kneeling over  
him.  
  
"What happened?" Gulwutt was on his knees, his back to the buyer.  
  
"Huh?" said Gulwutt. "Oh, he saw this," he turned, a phaser was in  
his hand. He fired, striking the buyer in the chest. The Ferengi  
leader collapsed.  
  
Gulwutt propped the safe's door open with a coaster from the table.  
The door was open just enough so he could cover it with a table  
cloth, without activating the locking mechanism. He then bound and  
gagged each of the stunned victims, placing them in the bedroom. He  
readied the phaser, then called in the buyer's guards from the hall  
outside.  
  
Five minutes later he'd moved the floating safe to his room.  
  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
  
Vord blinked several times to make sure his eyes were functioning.  
  
They were.  
  
It was in response to the sudden appearance of two Jem'Hadar that  
had materialized in the hall in front of him.  
  
This was obviously some sort of clandestine meeting, so Vord held  
his position around the corner.  
  
They were speaking to Gulwutt. Their conversation was short and the  
two disappeared in the same fashion as they had come. Gulwutt strode  
off to leave when Vord stepped around the corner.  
  
"Lutt, I've been looking for you," said Vord.  
  
"Still interested in passage off the station?" asked Gulwutt  
nervously.  
  
"Yes, uh, I've been wondering about payment. Would you accept an  
equal amount of alternate currency?"  
  
"For a brother Ferengi," explained Gulwutt quickly, "Of course.  
Plans have changed though. We're leaving tonight, docking port  
three, thirty minutes."  
  
Before Vord could say another word Gulwutt charged off.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
  
"Can I help you gentlemen?" asked Helka.  
  
After receiving a message from her Jem'Hadar troops, the female  
Vorta had stepped into the docking port corridor to board the  
CHALICE, only to discover a pair of Bajoran security men blocking  
her path. They were scanning the corridor with tricorders.  
  
"Possibly," said the ranking security man, scanning the area behind  
the woman. She was alone. "We're looking for the two Jem'Hadar that  
came from your ship."  
  
"I haven't seen them," replied the woman, crossing her arms, tapping  
her baton against the side of her bicep.  
  
"Neither have we," said the security man.  
  
"It's a big station," smiled Helka.  
  
"Wait!" said the man to her left. He adjusted his tricorder,  
"There's something approaching."  
  
As the two men looked past the woman down the corridor, the  
tricorder jumped from the man's grip, striking him in the face.  
Helka stepped sideways and touched him with the end of her baton. He  
convulsed briefly before dropping to the deck.  
  
By the time the other man drew his sidearm, he'd been struck by the  
scaled fist of one of the Jem'Hadar soldiers that had matierialized  
in the corridor.  
  
"Quickly!" said Helka, "Destroy the surveillance cameras."  
  
The Jem'Hadar soldiers raised their disruptors and blasted the  
camera and lights in the ceiling, then quickly boarded their vessel,  
dragging the two security men along for insurance.  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
Yar Vord removed two lamp covers from the shrine's wall and wrapped  
each carefully with a towel, before placing them inside his  
carryall. He then stepped over the unconscious form of the Bajoran  
monk, dropping the empty hypospray sedative he'd stolen from the  
sickbay next to the man.  
  
As he left, he recited the last two lines of the Bajoran prayer.  
  
Outside, he spotted one of the station's female security operatives.  
He dodged nimbly between the people in the crowded promenade in an  
effort to get away.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
"Erect a level nine containment field in the outer corridor of  
docking port #3," commanded Ovel.  
  
The chief had been summoned to the command post when the female  
security person following Yar Vord had reported in. The chief had  
tried to contact his men at the docking port. He'd repositioned them  
there after Cheka reported in. It was doubtful the Dominion  
operatives would leave via another ship, so instead of searching the  
station, he simply positioned them at the obvious point of  
departure. When they couldn't be contacted, and when the security  
cameras didn't function, he took more stringent actions.  
  
He then pulled two more of his people off the console in the outer  
office.  
  
"Transporter, this is Chief Ovel," he said after activating his  
communicator. "Lock on to us here in Security. Three to beam to  
docking port three's corridor."  
  
There was a twinkling of light and the three faded from sight.  
  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
Ovel and his two aides had just materialized in the corridor when  
they heard the sound of running feet.  
  
"Wait for me!" yelled Vord, before realizing the group ahead of him  
were the station's security team.  
  
The Bajorans turned, and the Ferengi came to a sudden halt. There  
was movement behind him. It was an old woman, hobbling down the  
docking port corridor, pushing a cart. The aide's tricorder   
revealed the "old woman" to be a Ferengi.  
  
She stopped when she spotted the group and turned. Behind her was  
the security woman who'd followed Vord from the Bajoran shrine.  
  
"My, what big lobes you have," commented Ovel as his men removed the  
wrap around the old woman's head. "You must be the middleman for the  
Cardassians."  
  
"He led me right to him," said the female security officer, pointing  
at Vord.  
  
Vord nervously considered her words. He'd been enlisted by Ovel to  
find the Ferengi dealing with the Dominion, in exchange for dropping  
all charges against him. Of course he had no intention of doing so,  
being concerned only with leaving the station as fast as possible.  
But they didn't know that.  
  
"That's right!" he said quickly. "As soon as I found out, I came  
right here."  
  
Gulwutt growled at him, but Ovel's men restrained him.  
  
Ovel touched his combadge, "OPS this is Ovel. Patch me through to  
the CHALICE."  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
"Well, we didn't get the cloaking devices," explained Ovel to Chief  
Berys.  
  
The CHALICE had been allowed to leave, moving beyond tractor beam  
range in exchange for beaming the two security men back to DS9.  
  
"Yes but we got the Ferengi middleman and a nice sum of Cardassian  
latinum," acknowledged the Security Chief.  
  
"And your Ferengi informer. What became of him?"  
  
"He got religion," said Ovel, showing Berys the video tapes. "After  
the arrest he went straight back to the Bajoran Shrine."  
  
"No doubt to say a prayer," said Berys.  
  
"No doubt."  
  
  
THE END  
  
--------------------------------------------------------  
  
Here's more details on the characters and the setting...  
  
POLITICAL SCENARIO -- Since the discovery of the Wormhole, the  
station enjoys a rotating leadership/command made up of Bajoran  
Military and Civilians, Starfleet Officers and Klingon Military  
staff. Current periods are 15 month rotation and the Bajoran  
leadership has three months left on its current leg.  
  
NPCs for the station:  
  
Yar Vord (Ferengi Rogue) -- his specialty is gambling & shady deals.  
  
Commander Justin Mullaney (Human Starfleet Officer) -- runs DS9  
during Starfleet Leg  
  
Chief Eunice Berys (Bajoran Military Officer) -- runs DS9 during  
Bajoran Leg  
  
Dr Wemsley (Human Starfleet Officer) -- Chief medical officer on DS9  
  
Security Chief Halan Ovel (Bajoran Military Officer) -- head of DS9  
security  
  
Captain Wil McCort (Human Starfleet Officer) -- head of engineering  
  
Captain Kaltack Mar (Klingon Starfleet Officer) -- commander of the  
Defiant-class escort PHOTON  
  
Betmil Gemmas (Orion Rogue) -- owns the BetelJuice Bar & Grill  
  
Casim's Restaurant -- currently undefined.  
  
Grmmak (Gorn Mercenary) -- owns the KSSR quasi-military vessel and  
has a few Klingon soldiers  
  
Gul Reket (Cardassian Military Officer) -- frequently at odds with  
DS9  
  
B'Char Ykkus (Klingon Military Officer) -- runs DS9 during Klingon  
Military Leg  
  
Dr Brel Lacher (retired Starfleet Officer) -- chief scientist on the  
station  
  
Harrikus (Romulan Diplomat) -- Romulan liason on the station  
  
Lieutenant Trob (Vulcan Starfleet Officer) -- assistant scientist  
  



End file.
